


Radioactive

by Lux Remanet (orphan_account)



Series: Lightis Cinematic Universe [2]
Category: Fabula Nova Crystallis: Final Fantasy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1777522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Lux%20Remanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They teeter on the edge of a precarious balance; he and her, and all it takes is a little push.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Radioactive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JazzRaft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/gifts).



> prompt in which Light is a crazy barber and Noct is the crazy meatpie maker.
> 
> Sweeney Todd!AU

He’s used to her being an early riser, but there’s something…different about today.  She still hasn’t made to get dressed for her routine early morning run, and as much as he’s enjoying the view of her creamy skin and the curve of her spine, the way she is sitting on the edge of the bed; deep in thought with her hands fisting the sheets at her sides every so often, sets off a few alarm bells.  It’s not him, he knows her well enough to know that it’ll _never_ be him, but it’s a better conversation starter than any, so he sits up and scoots over to her. 

“Was it something I said?”

There’s some irony in that, because they both hate talking—her more so—and the silence stretches like yards of yarn come undone before she finally answers with a small shake of her head. 

His arms wrap around her waist, pulling her to his chest before he places a kiss on her neck.  “Something I _did_?” he asks.  Her scent is intoxicating. 

_But not as intoxicating as the scent of—_

“I want to be good,” she whispers, finally. 

A smile creeps across his face.  “But we _are_ good.” At what they do anyway.  Silly woman. 

“No,” she says, stubborn. “ _Good_ good.  I want to be good, Noct.  I…”

“Then we’ll be good,” he decides, but the smile doesn’t leave his face. If anything, it evolves into a smirk.  What she is suggesting is futile.  They can never be good.  ‘Good’ is unexciting.  ‘Good’ is for the ordinary . 

But he’ll play along…

…for now.

“You’re doing okay, right?  I mean _you_ haven’t—”

He sighs and begins nuzzling her neck.  It’s getting harder and harder to think at the moment.  It’s her damn scent again, doing things to him. 

He never lies to her—not really, but he likes to neglect a few details just so he can revel in delicious ambiguity.

“If you’ve read my blog you’ll know the answer to that.”

She squirms and he releases her so she can look at him, apprehensive. 

“I don’t have time to read.  That’s why I’m asking you.”

Fair enough.  He lies back onto the pillows, resting his hands behind his head.  “The restaurant wants me to try something new.  ‘Make it fresh’ they say.” And then he reaches for her.  She doesn’t resist…this time.

She kisses the shell of his ear, making delicious shivers run up his spine.  “And what did _you_ say?”

His lips curl slightly.

“I said I’d make it fresh.”

And that’s enough talking for now.

* * *

“Your hair has gotten longer,” he says, taking the brush from her and running it through the sea of pink while she watches him through the mirror.  It’s been two weeks and twenty hours since ‘that’ conversation, and still nothing.  She hasn’t cracked, so perhaps she might be serious about this clean slate after all.

That’s worrying.  

 _Pink._ _Such a lovely shade.  Just like—_  

“Serah’s getting married,” she says, cutting off that potentially pleasant train of thought. 

He has a genuine smile on his face at the news.  “That’s wonderful Light.” He’s always liked Serah.  _So innocent._   _So blissfully unaware…_

“Yeah...”

He catches the hollow enthusiasm in her voice, all too easily, and pounces.  “You don’t sound happy.” He likes when she is unhappy; she’s easier to manipulate.

“Being good is hard, Noct.”

From that answer he knows there’s some other important details she’s left out but he decides not to pursue it.  It’s going to come out eventually—it always does. 

“We’re going to try, aren’t we,” he reminds her. 

She gathers her hair and holds the mass in a makeshift bun.  “I’ll wear it like this. I’ve picked out a dress.” Her eyes meet his in the mirror.  “And you’ll rent a tux.”

He nods.  “Anything for you.” He means that when he says it.

Still, it’s always fun to see her eat her words. 

* * *

“So I was wondering if you’d want to be my best man,” Snow finishes, expression hopeful. 

Noctis pauses, in the middle of chopping the onions and looks up.  He just barely manages to conceal the speculation in his tone.  “Really.”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re a cool guy, and Lightning’s about the most important person in Serah’s life right now.”

 _That’s_ true. The latter, anyway. 

“I don’t know what to say, Snow.”

Snow grins, like the optimistic savage he is.  “Say yes?”

“Consider me standing at the altar handing you the rings,” Noctis promises.  “Here,” he makes to hug him, but Snow lets out a nervous laugh and points.  His eyes are on the knife in Noctis’ hand.

“Easy there, that looks sharp.”

 _Oh it is, trust me_ , Noctis is so very tempted to say. Nevertheless he lays down the blade carefully in sight and lets Snow pull him into a bear hug. The man absolutely _reeks_ of ordinary and he tries not to wrinkle his nose.

 _The things I do for love._  

* * *

 

He’s always wondered what it’d be like for them to have a kid—or two, because there definitely never would be a dull moment.

 _Why, just look at how irritated Lightning is right now, she’s absolutely_ fuming.  _Beautiful_ , he thinks. 

The two boys are zooming through the aisles like race car drivers and always, _always_ manage to bump into her while she tries to help him find the special pasta sauce he wants. She doesn’t know that he’s paid the brats off in advance _and_ that he’s already made the sauce from scratch—always does; he never buys any of this bottled crap, ‘make it fresh, Noct’ they keep saying—but this is just revenge for the boring routine she’s reduced him to.

_And now for the crème de la crème..._

He sticks out his leg just as one of the boys makes his way for her, and the kid collides into Lightning and the shelves.  Bottles go flying this way and that, but they all end up on the floor and shatter, splattering the linoleum and Lightning with red. She goes completely still at the sight, and her hands shake a little as she stares at them and her stained t-shirt. 

Noctis smiles, positively ecstatic.  This is what he’s been waiting for.  He knows exactly which memory is running through those lovely synapses of hers because _he helped create it._

The boys’ mother tries to approach with a box of tissues, but he intercepts and smiles diplomatically at her.

“I’ll take it from here.”

“Are you sure? I feel really…”

He looks beyond her and sees the boys giving him the thumbs up. His smile widens.

“Yes.  This _my_ job.”

And that’s…probably the most honest thing he’s ever said in his life.

* * *

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Lightning begins once they’re finally home and unpacking the groceries “and it has to stop.  I mean it Noct.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Those boys in the grocery store—I _know_ you had something to do with it.  Noct, I _just_ want to be happy, okay?  That’s all I want.” She pinches the bridge of her nose.  “Why can’t you just—”

“Because you’re _not_ —”

“I don’t care if I’m not!” she explodes, pointing at him “don’t fuck with me!  You have no right! Absolutely _no_ right to just—”

He gives out a sigh of resignation and reaches for her. 

“No, don’t you _dare_ touch me you _unrepentant_ _fuck_!  I _told_ you I wanted—get _away_ from me I don’t—”

She tries to fight him, but he’s stronger and her fists end up sandwiched against his chest.

“Do you really want to be good?” he asks quietly, when the fight in her finally dies away and she buries her head in his shoulder.

He doesn’t receive an answer, but the silence is answer enough and it makes him smile. 

It’s only a matter of time.

* * *

The following Tuesday morning takes an interesting turn when he arrives home from the florist and their three bedroom house is in complete disarray. 

His beloved pots and pans are _everywhere_ , the bookshelves have been knocked to the floor, and the photographs that used to hang on the walls are in two pieces or three.  There is a gaping hole in their flat screen television, and a few feet away he sees a male body lying there with its throat slit, lifeless.  One of Lightning's barber blades is standing proudly to attention in the center of his chest.  The face has been beaten to a bloody, mushy pulp, but Noctis knows the scent of ordinary like he does the back of his hand. 

That’s definitely Snow.

He smiles and hides the roses behind his back as he tip-toes around the shattered glass and skips his way upstairs. 

Lightning is in the middle of pulling up the zipper to the dress she’s meant to wear to Serah’s wedding this afternoon. He chuckles.  _Apparently_ there’s still a wedding to be had.  God he loves her.

He crosses the distance between them with a few strides, pulls her to him and kisses her, long and deep.

She doesn't look entirely pleased when they pull away for air, and he knows it’s not because he’s a bad kisser or because the kiss has ended.  She turns and he takes the hint, zipping her up, but not before stealing a kiss from the small of her back. 

“You cut your hair,” he notices.    

“I caught him cheating,” she explains with a sigh. 

“I surmised as much.”

“So you knew,” she accuses, turning and hitting him in the arm. 

He runs a hand through his hair, exasperated.  “You said you wanted to be _happy_ woman.”

“I didn’t want to be ignorant,” she snaps, hitting him again.

“The two usually go hand in hand, my love,” he says, before presenting the bouquet to her.  “For you.”

She closes her eyes and inhales them with a smile, before giving him a ‘look’.  “I suppose you’ll be wanting the body?”

He shrugs.  “They did say to ‘make it fresh’.”

* * *

 

_**-fin-** _

**Author's Note:**

> I regret nothing.  
> No they are not cannibals :P


End file.
